


A Documentary Nobody Asked For

by I_reallyreally_hatemakingusernames



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Past Character Death, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 10:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21493084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_reallyreally_hatemakingusernames/pseuds/I_reallyreally_hatemakingusernames
Summary: Half of all life has just been snapped away by Thanos. In a probably misguided attempt to cope, a dysfunctional crew of film majors and the European Union's ex-Head of Xenology set out on a noble mission: to create a documentary about an alien race who have just been given refuge on Earth. Hijinks are inevitable.
Kudos: 1





	A Documentary Nobody Asked For

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the amazing @caraldanvers on Tumblr, and this cursed post:  
"there should be a mokumentary based on the asgardians transition from asgard to earth. the premise would be that valkyrie made a deal w norwegian camera crews & said they could follow them around & document their struggles (wealthy socialites who lived in a city made of gold forced to live off the land) for a year in exchange for land & building supplies"  
My film crew is...not Norwegian...but I'm having fun anyways.

Tonsberg, Norway.

Mossy hills roll, serene, to the shimmering ocean—in the distance, dark crags jut above the waves, but here the road winds gently through the green.

In the driver’s seat of a meticulously clean van, still obviously vintage, Dr. Alana Murray drinks it in—hands steady on the wheel, dark eyes wide behind her thick glasses.

“I’ve been chasing this rumor for months.” She glances over as the road straightens, managing a smile, but that hungry intensity lingers. “I was head of xenology for the European Union, prior to...the Event.” (She mutters something else, which sounds suspiciously like _I’m not calling it the Decimation that would mean a tenth of life was wiped out it was half of all life the stupid media bastards._)

The xenology building has been repurposed now, into a shelter—one of the many springing up across Europe, holding those orphaned by the Event. Behind the door where Dr. Murray’s nameplate still rests, four siblings wait until the government can locate relatives. They’ve been waiting for months now, the oldest, (ten, with two front teeth missing), tells us, bony arms crossed tight.

“It’s...low-priority now,” Murray grimaces. “The worst has already happened with extraterrestrial encounters, and policy at the moment holds that we need to handle on-planet affairs first. But, well, there were rumors. About Norway, before they shut us down. I couldn’t just let that go. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.”

She jams the van into a higher gear, and it roars, trying to speed up.

“Technically,” Murray says, (a slight edge to her voice), “Norway is not a member of the EU. Am I—I wouldn’t say I’m worried about that, precisely, as I’m no longer officially affiliated with the EU in any way. I did have—I mean, of course I had some concerns about possible encounters with the Norwegian xenology agency, which is still running, but I’ve just been trying to avoid them.”

Sun glints off the side of the van—a sleek forest-green, with European Union Xenology embossed on the side in white, an attempt to Sharpie over the letters clearly failed. In front of it, duct tape spells out NOT.

Murray taps out a nervous rhythm on the wheel, still intently scanning the landscape.

“It’s taken months of interviews. But I’ve finally determined that this village we’re approaching, Tonsberg, was one of the small towns that survivors deserted after the Event—and is the only one whose grocery store is still receiving shipments. It’s not much to go on. But the Norwegian government is running a massive cover-up.”

(Dr. Harald Olsen, Head of Norwegian Xenology, shrugs, attention drifting back to one of the files cluttering his desk. “I mean, media coverage is certainly going to more important things right now. Public safety announcements and what-not. Technically we’re still in national emergency. I mean, my department’s not even particularly bothered with them right now, what with all the...hmm, well, they’re calling themselves the Black Order and they keep saying they're searching for their lord, whose presence was last felt in Af—what? Oh, their location? It’s in one of these files, somewhere, if you give me a couple months I can—alright, look, the actual Head and her assistant both got hit by the Decimation, I was just an intern, and I’m doing the best I can—”)

“Still,” Murray says, vehement, “Everything I know about Asgard points here—this was the original location of the Tesseract! It all fits. We’re on the right track.”

* * *

“Aaaaand...cut.” Molly clicks off the video camera, and wedges it into her lap, flexing her aching fingers. “Cool. I think that’ll edit together really well.”

Alana nods, grinning faintly, and pulls to the side of the road—the engine splutters worryingly, but it’s been doing that since Denmark.

“Are we gonna turn around for Sarah and Jack?” Molly probably doesn’t need to ask, given that it’s basically a routine at this point to leave those two with the nice camera for landscape shots and have incredibly awkward conversations waiting for them to catch up, but...they did leave them on top of a hill this time…

“We’re low enough on gas as it is,” Alana says, finally managing to work the key out of the ignition. “If Tonsberg isn’t the right place...” She trails off, and settles on an extremely non-convincing “hmm.”

“Hmm,” Molly repeats, trying to stave off mild panic at Alana’s lack of answer for that very real concern—it’s not like they’re rationing gas now or anything, of course not. Alana either doesn’t hear or is just ignoring her, and hops out of the van, probably off for a smoke break. (Molly has insisted she not take those inside of the van, given Sarah’s asthma, which could literally_ kill her_ now that _medicine_ is being rationed).

The door slams, and Molly fights the urge to scream. She’s been doing that a lot lately—if she really thinks about the world at large, after all, screaming is honestly a bit of an under-reaction.

She tries not to think about the world at large.

There’s no point in just screaming, as nice as it would feel, because she’s fairly certain she won’t be able to stop, if she starts, and more than enough people have completely lost it in the face of...whatever this is. Also, if she slows down to think at all, she’ll probably end up deciding existence is bullshit too, so—helping a technically-unemployed social scientist, (who advertised this mission by hanging wanted ads in a grocery store), hunt down an alien race to study, and putting her now-permanently-unfinished film degree to use. Why not?

(Her dad would say it’s a terrible coping mechanism, but her dad never had the chance to explain what a good coping mechanism is, given that he dissolved into dust, so—)

So. Molly takes a couple deep breaths, (then a couple more), and focuses way too hard on getting the lens cap back onto the video camera she definitely didn’t steal, (if the university ever reopens, she’ll send it back, probably). Making a documentary about an alien race that apparently includes Thor.

Why not? It’s not like things can get any weirder.


End file.
